


Mein Kapitän

by dicklomatticimmunity



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Prostate Massage, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicklomatticimmunity/pseuds/dicklomatticimmunity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some friends give you what you'd expect. Others give you sex toys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mein Kapitän

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if this is typically how this kind of thing would be celebrated in Germany, but by the time I gave this thought consideration, I was having too much fun writing it. So here it is.

_We did this for Fips,_ Bastian thought, as he looked in front of him at his living room table. Gifts were piled on and around it, sticking out in every direction, some of them more oddly shaped than others. He poked one gently, and the paper made a crinkling noise as it depressed inward, with a hollow feeling beneath it. Either someone had unfortunate wrapping skills, then, or the paper had been stretched over open space to accommodate the odd shape.

He shouldn't be surprised, really. He, Bastian Schweinsteiger, was the new captain of the national team. It was a bit overwhelming, seeing this stack of presents in front of him. Sure, he was friends with everyone on the team, and yet this felt unprecedented, somehow. Like it should be happening to someone else, not him. 

And to think, when Philipp had become captain, not only had the national team thrown him a party, but Bayern München had thrown a party of their own, too. He had _that_ to look forward to.

"Hey!" someone called, from the other side of the room. Bastian looked up, and saw that Thomas was trying to get everyone's attention. The room gradually fell silent, and then Thomas looked at him, blue eyes meeting his own. "Are you going to stare at those, or are you going to open them?"

Bastian laughed as his teammates -- and former teammates, too -- cheered loudly, and lifted their beers.

"Fine, fine," he said, as he put his beer down and walked over to the pile of wrapped gifts. Some of them were much larger than others. Some had odd shapes, too, and it was one of these that got Bastian's attention first. It was wrapped in white paper with blue dots on it, and was shaped vaguely like some kind of jar. Bastian already had an idea of what it might be -- and who it was from, too.

"Manu?" he said, searching for the goalkeeper amidst his teammates, who had all started to settle into chairs and onto sofas. He spotted Manuel easily enough, tall as he was, sitting on the end of his red couch next to Thomas.

Manuel shrugged, but he was smiling. "How do you know?"

Bastian tore the paper off the present, and as he'd expected, there was a giant jar of Nutella underneath. He looked over at Manuel as he hefted the hazelnut spread in one hand. "Where do you find such big jars of this, anyway?"

"He gets them directly from Nutella," someone off to Bastian's left said. Bastian turned and focused on the voice, which turned out to be Miro's. "He's their biggest customer."

Everyone laughed, and Bastian looked at Manuel, who was lifting his glass. "It gives me special powers. Maybe it will give you some too."

Bastian laughed, picked up his beer, and lifted it to Manuel. "So that's where you get them from. Prost!" He drank, and the rest of the team drank with him.

Some of the odd-shaped presents he'd been curious about turned out to be more normal than their wrapping presented. There was a huge roll of wrist tape from Philipp, which made everyone laugh. There was a new wristwatch from Per, packaged in a small velvet-lined box. There was a box of anti-gray hair dye, which initially made everyone _boo_ with disapproval, but upon finding out it was from Miro, "to remind you that age is more than looks," made everyone laugh instead. There were other smaller gifts, too, and some that were quite a bit larger, including a keg of his favorite beer from Reus and Götze.

Finally, there was only one present left. It was lovingly addressed _from Thomas_ , and was covered in red paper that shone when held at an angle. Bastian picked it up and looked over at Thomas.

The short-haired man was still sitting next to Manuel on the sofa. He blew Bastian a kiss, then winked. Bastian frowned, but tore the paper from the package the same as he had the ones before it.

The box was about four inches wide and six inches long. It was completely black and made of thick, sturdy paperboard. Bastian raised an eyebrow at Thomas, who returned the look with a mischievous smile. Bastian looked back down at the box in his hand, then slowly lifted the lid.

Inside the silk-lined box was a smooth, curved sculpture. It was thick at one end, and gradually tapered down to about a one-inch thickness at the base, which flared out such that it became larger than the tip. There was an opening in the base, and a small silver bullet gleamed in the corner of the box.

"We gave one to Fips, but he either didn't use it or it didn't make him any looser," Thomas said. "But with you, hopefully if you're going to have something up your ass, you'll be comfortable."

Bastian raised an eyebrow at Thomas in the silence that followed, then searched the crowd for Philipp. He found the ex-captain leaning against the backside of the chair Per was sitting in, holding a beer in one hand. Their gazes met, and Philipp only shrugged.

Then Bastian laughed, so loudly that he had to put a hand on his stomach. Shortly after, the laughter of everyone else joined his own, and he lifted his glass to Thomas before draining it of its contents. He put his glass down and looked over at Thomas, who had finished his beer too, and now had that look on his face that spoke of victories and mischief and everything between.

Bastian lifted his empty glass and looked out at the rest of his teammates. "Let's open that keg!"

There was a loud cheer, and eventually, everyone got a taste of his favorite brew.

~*~

Less than two hours after presents had been opened, almost everyone was asleep. Manuel had shifted from the end of the couch to the center, and he was now sprawled across it, one arm hanging down in front of the couch and the other draped over his own chest. Per and Philipp had fallen asleep next to one another on a different sofa, with Per's knees bent over an armrest while Philipp stretched out comfortably, just barely taking up the entire length of the sofa. Jérôme was in a corner, head drooped down over his chest, snoring quietly. Several others were in chairs, while some were actually cleaning up. Thomas and Götze, in particular, seemed to be moving with what could be considered animated grace, casually stepping over the outstretched limbs of teammates as they made their way back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, where Reus made it look like he was doing dishes when in fact he was just arranging glasses so it would be easier for someone else to do later.

Bastian watched all of this from the bottom of the stairs, slowly sipping a beer. He had no idea how much he'd drank; he'd felt warm and fuzzy not too long ago, but the effect was starting to wear off. It wasn't that he felt depressed or anything; this had been a great night with the people he considered family, but all good things ended at some point.

He smirked to himself as he watched Thomas head back into the kitchen. Once Thomas was safely around the corner, he walked as lightly as he could towards the stack of unwrapped presents. He found the box containing Thomas' gift, grabbed it, then hurried upstairs before anyone could notice his retreat.

Thomas would probably laugh at Bastian if he told him that he'd never had his prostate massaged -- or at least, not with the intent of being intimate about it. He wasn't averse to the idea, but he wouldn't have considered buying a massager for himself. Maybe he would have tried it earlier in his life if someone else had bought it for him --

Which was exactly what he was doing, of course. He reached the top of the stairs, turned left, and headed down the hallway to his bedroom door. He opened it slowly, doing his best to keep the creak of the hinges to a minimum, and closed it behind him. The room was dark, so he walked over to a nightstand lamp, one that turned on in various shades of color, and slid the dimmer over until the lamp filled the room with reddish-orange light. Satisfied, he put the box on his bed, then began to strip, removing his shirt and pants first, and then his socks. He ignored the lingering smell of alcohol as he tossed the clothes aside, then grasped the hem of his tight-fitting undershirt and pulled it over his shoulders.

Shirtless now, he stared at the box, wondering if now was the best time for this. Someone was sure to come looking for him. Poldi, maybe, though he could have sworn he saw the very-short haired man curled up around a couch pillow on the floor. Could he account for everyone? Had some people gone home?

Screw it. This was his home; he could do what he wanted. He removed his shorts and boxers in efficient order, leaving him naked except for the captain's armband around his left bicep.

Moving with more determination, now, he walked over to his bureau. He opened his underwear drawer, and after rummaging past some folded boxer briefs, found the tube of lubricant he'd been looking for. He closed the drawer and headed back over to the bed.

Bastian had thought the toy was solid black in color, but in the dim fiery glow of the bedroom lamp, he saw that it was a deep purple color instead. He removed it from the box and ran his finger along the length, feeling the velvety-smoothness of it, deceptively soft-feeling. The silicone itself was only very slightly squishy, moreso at the tip than the base, though the hollow space where the bullet was supposed to go flexed more than he liked. This seemed to suggest that he should probably put the bullet in the toy, even if he had no intention of using that function of it.

He sat down on the bed and examined the rest of the box's contents. There was an actual, honest-to-god manual, but he didn't even glance at it. He removed the silver bullet from the box and tugged at the tab until it broke free, then pressed down on the button. It began to vibrate immediately, and rather strongly, too. He pushed the button again, and it turned off. So this wasn't one of those fancy multi-setting bullets, then. He wasn't sure if that disappointed him or not.

He went with his instinct to not use the bullet at first but to put it in the toy all the same, to see if this would even be a pleasant experience for him. He'd actually made the bed this morning, so he got up and shoved the bed coverings down about halfway, scattering the lid and the box onto the floor. He then lay down on his back, with the toy in one hand and the bottle of lube in the other.

He debated doing this with his fingers first, but he dismissed the idea almost immediately. He'd only gotten this far because of the toy, and it only seemed right that he would proceed that way. That decided, he turned onto his side, coated one of his fingers with a very generous amount of lube, and told himself to relax as he reached his left hand over and behind him.

Inserting one finger wasn't that bad. He wouldn't call it pleasant, either, but maybe he just wasn't relaxed enough. He closed his eyes and told himself to take it slow; eagerness would only draw this out and probably frustrate him. After a few deep breaths, he started moving his finger in and out. It was a weird feeling to get used to, but the more he took his time, the better it was starting to feel. Zen wasn't something he was good at, but he employed all the tactics he knew of to stave off his excitement. He got used to the feeling surprisingly fast, and he found himself craving more as he withdrew his finger.

He wasn't sure if using a second finger so soon was a good idea, but he did it anyway, pouring what was likely an unnecessarily copious amount of lube onto them before capping the tube and setting it aside. This time, it was more painful, and it forced him to work the second finger in gradually. As he did, he realized his focus was failing; his thoughts were falling apart as soon as they formed. He felt surprisingly good, even though he hadn't gotten to the main event. He was... actually enjoying this.

He looked down to see if his body agreed with him, and found that he was hard. He should have expected that, he supposed, but considering that he hadn't given much thought to a prostate massage until tonight, maybe his reaction wasn't entirely unexpected.

He was getting impatient with himself. Stretching was taking far longer than he wanted it to; he was eager to try the toy. He continued to work his fingers in and out until he couldn't take it anymore, and finally reached for the toy, covered it in lube, took a deep breath, and went for it.

At first, he didn't feel much different. The toy was less thick than two fingers had been. Getting the tip inside had been the most difficult part, being the thickest part of the toy. Once the tip had gone in, the rest had followed, all the way down to the base, but it wasn't giving him the feeling of bliss that he'd expected. Maybe he wasn't using the toy right. Should he have read the directions? He rotated the toy slightly, trying a different angle, then pulled it out slightly and pushed it back in --

oh. _Oh._ _**Oh.**_

He gasped, and his breath stuck in his throat. Stars exploded across his eyelids; his entire body felt as though it was relieved of all weight. As the sensation waned, he pulled the toy out, pushed it in again, and the feeling was nirvana, scorching his senses with pure bliss. He cried out, his universe closed to everything except his own body, and moved again, rocking himself into the movement, and _fuck_ , that was even better.

With his other hand, he reached down and grasped his cock. He pressed his thumb hard against his foreskin, just below the glans, and _yes, perfect_ , he began to stroke himself, doing his best to find a rhythm.

"Basti?" The voice was clear, almost deafening, against his senses. Bastian opened his eyes, in time to see someone open the bedroom door.

Thomas peered in. "Oh good, you're here. Just wanted to make sure -- oh."

Bastian couldn't tell if Thomas was blushing or not, but even if he was, he was pretty sure Thomas would have been doing his best to hide it.

"Enjoying yourself, then?" Thomas asked, the barest hint of awkwardness in his voice.

Bastian wanted to say _obviously_ , but his slightly-bliss-slightly-alcohol-muddled mind was apparently not up to making neither sarcastic nor witty comments at the moment.

"Yes, very," was all he said instead.

"Ah," Thomas replied. "I'll, uh, leave you to it then."

Something -- Bastian wasn't sure what -- didn't want Thomas to go.

"No," Bastian said, just before Thomas ducked his head behind the door to close it. "Stay, if you like."

Thomas raised an eyebrow at him, but even from this distance, Bastian could see the sparkle that was ignited in Thomas' eyes. That smile, too, that grin that spoke of misdeeds and guarantees of fun, was slowly forming at the corners of Thomas' lips.

"But you have to close the door," Bastian said. "And... you have to strip."

Then, something interesting happened. Thomas' grin vanished, and in its place was... reverence? Was it possible that such a word could share the same sentence space as Thomas Müller?

Thomas obeyed, closing the door before stripping out of his clothes. Bastian watched, still confused about Thomas' expression, until Thomas was naked, standing less than five feet from him.

"Now what?" Thomas asked, and it was adorable, how Thomas was waiting on his word. Sure, they had seen each other naked plenty of times -- everyone on the team had seen everyone naked at some point -- but there was something in Thomas now, something in the way he stood, in the way he looked at Bastian, that was far more vulnerable, maybe even innocent.

Bastian did his best to hide a laugh, but it was a near thing. He smiled and gestured. "Come here."

Thomas lay down in front of him on the bed, and most of the awkwardness had faded, but that look of respect, almost deference, was still there, and it made him pause for a moment, wonder why it was that now, of all times, Thomas was... like this.

Bastian wanted to pull Thomas close to him, but neither of his hands were especially clean, and yet, it seemed to him that what Thomas was asking from him was reassurance, confidence that he was in the right place. With his right hand, he reached out and cupped Thomas' cheek, stroking his thumb over Thomas' cheekbone, then leaned in close, so their bodies were nearly touching.

"You're so beautiful, Thomas," he said, and meant it. He spread his fingers and dragged them down over Thomas' body, looking down between them as he did, taking in Thomas in a way he never had before. Thomas was muscular, lean, moreso than everyone else on the team, and he memorized Thomas' body with his hand, mapping him out, tracing wet paths through beads of perspiration until his thumb was inches from Thomas' cock.

"If you want to leave," Bastian whispered, "Now is your last chance."

There was a sharp breath from Thomas before he said, his voice hushed, "I'm staying, mein Kapitän." His blue eyes had gone wide, and his breathing was harsher, more audible in the stillness of the bedroom. 

Bastian nodded, then leaned forward and kissed Thomas. Thomas yielded to him almost immediately, parting his lips and allowing Bastian to slide his tongue over Thomas' lower lip. Thomas moaned, and the sound only encouraged Bastian. The taste of ale lingered on Thomas' lips and tongue, and he licked them of the flavor as best he could as Thomas made another half-moan half-whimper sound.

Bastian needed more. He slid his hand over Thomas' side, feeling his way to his lower back, then pulled Thomas towards him until their bodies were pressed together, until he could feel Thomas' chest rising and falling against his, their cocks pressed against one another. He broke the kiss, breathing hard, and kept his eyes closed, simply _feeling_.

"Fuck," Thomas said, a warm, barely-audible whisper against Bastian's lips. "Oh fuck, Basti."

Bastian moaned quietly. He wanted to make Thomas scream his name, wanted to hear more hushed breaths against his ear. He pressed his lips to Thomas' neck and sucked hard, letting his teeth brush lightly against Thomas' skin. Thomas moaned, loudly, and it was music to Bastian's ears.

He could feel Thomas' hand on his left buttcheek, but it was only a gentle caress -- or so he thought. When he felt the toy move inside him, he gasped, then cried out as the toy struck home.

"Oh fuck," Bastian whispered, lips no longer pressed against Thomas' skin. "Oh fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_ ," he repeated, his voice more broken on every utterance.

"Christ, " Thomas said, voice husky, deeper than usual. "Jesus, Basti."

Bastian couldn't help but cling to Thomas as Thomas fucked him with the toy. He draped his left leg over Thomas' body, half-grinding against him as broken cries were torn from his throat. Even with his eyes open, his vision was clouded with stars, the dim light turning them to supernovas that exploded across his vision with every nudge against his prostate.

"Please," he begged, and he gazed directly at Thomas. Thomas' eyes looked huge, blue irises all but vanished into the pupils in the red glow of the light, as though he had only now realized the magnitude of what they were sharing. Bastian felt Thomas' free hand slide between them, then close around their cocks.

Bastian didn't last much longer after that. Thomas found a rhythm much easier than he had, and he rocked himself back and forth in it, trusting in Thomas to keep it steady. Before he knew it, before he could give Thomas any kind of warning, he was coming, spilling his pleasure between them, his cries of ecstasy muffled by Thomas' body as he pressed his face against Thomas' shoulder.

Bastian let himself drift. His mind was afloat, hovering on a cloud of blankness. Everything was sharp, crystal clear, and he was sensitive, maybe oversensitive, to all of it. He tried to quiet his breathing -- too harsh, too fast -- but he couldn't control it. Something was making him choke, and as wet drops streaked down his cheeks, it dawned on him that he was crying.

"Hey." Thomas' voice sounded like it was coming out of a megaphone from a meter away. He did his best to not wince. "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah," Bastian said, his own voice too loud for his ears. He was melting, he was sure of it. He wasn't simply relaxing; he was transforming into something else altogether. He kept his head pressed to Thomas' shoulder, and that grounded him, at least. "Yeah. I'm..."

'Fine' was definitely not the right word, so he left the sentence unfinished. Beautiful, maybe? Overwhelmed? Intoxicated?

"Shh," Thomas hushed. "Just relax, Schweini."

Bastian moaned quietly and did just that, basking in the warmth of their bodies. Slow, gentle circles were being traced into his back, and he hummed contently as he let Thomas massage him.

"Did you...?" he asked, because it wouldn't feel right if he'd reached nirvana and Thomas hadn't at least orgasmed.

"Come? Yeah, I did." Thomas laughed. "Don't worry, mein Kapitän. Victory was won for everyone."

Bastian snorted. "Hey, you only get to call me that on the field. Fips is still our captain."

"Mmmm," Thomas hummed. "But we're in your bedroom, and you're enjoying the gift I got you -- the one I got you for your captaincy. It only seems right that I get to use that title here." As if to emphasis his words, Thomas' hand slid over his arm, to the armband that clung to his bicep. Thomas stroked it slowly, lovingly, then slid his hand to Bastian's back to continue the massage he'd been giving.

Bastian muttered something about mischievous forwards, then lapsed into silence, listening to Thomas' breathing, letting it lull him into relaxation.

A shudder went down his spine a minute or so later. Wanting more warmth, he tried to reach for the blankets with his foot, in hopes that he could pull them up towards him. The circles on his back stopped, and a hand reached out for his own. Thomas laughed a moment later.

"Always so cold," Thomas said. "Let me get them -- and clean us up, too."

"Don't wanna," Bastian said, his voice muffled and lazy. He clung to Thomas, but when Thomas got up, he reluctantly let his hands fall away. He watched Thomas walk towards the only other door in the room, open it, and disappear into the bathroom on the other side. There was the sound of running water, and when it shut off, Thomas reappeared, a washcloth in one hand.

"Waking up smelling like beer is okay," Thomas said, as he pressed the cloth to Bastian's stomach and began cleaning them. "Smelling like come as you sleep, not so much."

Bastian had to admit this was true, and let Thomas clean him. He looked down at Thomas' stomach, and his eyes widened.

"That's a lot," he said, staring down at the amount of come that was splattered over Thomas' chest.

"Huh? Oh." Thomas was looking down at himself, now. He shrugged and started wiping it away with the cloth. "I think you get that, when you have an orgasm that way."

"You think?" Bastian raised an eyebrow. "You've never tried it?"

"Nein," Thomas said, and his mischievous grin returned. He looked at Bastian. "But it looked amazing for you."

Amazing? That was an understatement if Bastian had ever heard one. He laughed, though, and watched Thomas finish cleaning himself, then start cleaning him again.

"So wait." Bastian licked his lips. "If you haven't had one, how did you know to buy one?"

Thomas shrugged. "Seemed like the right thing to get you."

Uh huh. Bastian didn't believe that for a moment. He did remember Philipp unwrapping a similar gift years ago at Philipp's captaincy party, and while he did believe that Thomas might have thought up the idea on his own, it smelled of at least one co-conspirator.

Thomas finished cleaning him, and he reached for Thomas, silently begging for him to come closer.

"Blankets first. Don't want you to get cold," Thomas said, still grinning. He tossed the washcloth aside, then pulled the blankets and the sheets up over them. He lay down, body aligned with Bastian's, and Bastian pulled him close with a satisfied sigh.

"You're so silly," Thomas said, a hint of a chuckle in his tone as he reached for Bastian's cheek. He stroked it gently, erasing the tracks left behind by tears.

Bastian smiled and said nothing. He felt like he was glowing, like his entire body had become some sort of star, giving off its own light. He wondered if Thomas noticed how he felt as he leaned into Thomas' touch.

"Aren't the others going to notice you're gone?" Bastian asked a moment later.

"They were mostly asleep," Thomas said. "The rest will be asleep soon."

Bastian "mmmm"ed, and fell quiet again.

Thomas chuckled a minute or so later, a laugh that echoed against his own skin.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm so tempted to turn the bullet on and see how you react," Thomas said, barely suppressing an impish grin. "But you look so happy right now, and I don't want to ruin that for you."

Bastian laughed gently, then reached down and removed the toy. It slid out smoothly, and he had to confess that he missed the feeling of it being inside him as he set it aside on the nightstand.

"There," Bastian said. "So you won't make me jump and hit my head on the ceiling when I wake up ten hours from now."

Thomas grinned, and they kissed briefly before falling silent, drifting on the path to sleep together.

~*~

"Where's Thomas?" Manuel said sleepily, nudging the still-asleep Lukas in the thigh with his toe.

Lukas groaned and stretched, as though disturbed from a deep sleep.

"I dunno, Manu," he slurred. He turned his body away from Manuel's prodding. "Where's Basti?"

Manuel shrugged. "I don't know."

"Me either," Lukas said, and promptly went back to sleep.

Manuel looked around him. The only one who was still awake was Reus, who was walking around with a half-glazed expression on his face. He looked like he was ready to collapse, but his face brightened when he spotted the couch.

"Hey," Manuel said. "I was sleeping there."

"If you want it back," Reus said, as he flopped down onto the sofa, "You'll have to come join me."

Manuel shrugged, then sighed and walked over to the sofa, where he sat down next to Reus.

But really, where had Thomas gone?

Almost as importantly, where was the gift he'd convinced Thomas to get for Bastian?


End file.
